


What's your name?

by ColourlessZero



Series: Birthmark [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-08-09 13:32:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7803820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColourlessZero/pseuds/ColourlessZero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oikawa hates the idea of soulmates. Two reasons. One: Seven billion people in the world and you have just the one name printed on your skin. How the hell are you supposed to even meet them? They can be anywhere. Why should anyone have to worry over a silly little birthmark? Two: Commitment is terrifying especially if you didn't choose the person.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sun

**Author's Note:**

> This fic comes with a [mini playlist!](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLE2jEL4WrBwmxDuBUAqQMGHyDBVSVHdQd) You can listen as you read along

The word “responsibility” has the mysterious ability to give Oikawa sweaty palms. “Commitment” kicks it up a notch and has him formulating escape plans. Nothing sends him packing like the prospect of marriage.

When he was still in highschool he could use his passion for volleyball to dodge questions about significant others. With every other friend getting hitched nowadays his parents grew impatient. “We want you to be happy with that _special_ someone, Tooru,” they had said with their fingers intertwined, platinum wedding bands glinting silver-white in the sunlight.

But he _is_ happy. On his own. Perfect in every way. Complete.

So when his lover for the night asks him, “Oikawa-san, do you want to meet your soulmate?” his finger stops tracing idle patterns on her creamy shoulder. His soul flies out of his head and up into the sky above the stars. He screams into the abyss, **_WHEN WILL SPACE TRAVEL BE AVAILABLE?_ **

There's a long pause and she looks up curiously at him. All pretty brown eyes and innocence. There’s no hidden meaning behind her words. For this, Oikawa is glad.

He holds her close and resumes tracing the Arabic script on her shoulder. “No, I’ve never been all that invested about finding mine. You?”

He smiles gently, waiting for her answer. Though he already knows what she'll say. To be honest, Oikawa isn't surprised. He's heard questions of the same vein coming from many different mouths: pink ones, ones flavoured from desserts they shared, chapped lips, rough mouths--no matter the variation it always comes down to _that_.

Fingertips brush over the serpentine swishes Oikawa can’t read. Her soulmark is actually quite beautiful. He sighs more to himself than the sweet girl resting in his arms. It’s unlikely she'll ever meet hers. That person might already be dead considering the political upheaval in the Middle East. It has always been rare for people to find their soulmate. His parents being one of those special cases. Maybe that's why he's so perfect, Oikawa muses. Even so, Oikawa doesn’t understand the point of having a soulmark at all. Why should people worry over a stupid little birthmark when the odds are against them anyway?

“Sometimes I think about finding him.” She looks away from him, fidgeting. “But it seems so impossible.”

Oikawa hums, raising his hand to his chin. “I wouldn’t say it's impossible. Just highly unlikely. You have a one in seven billion chance after all. For me, I'd rather be free than be tied down by someone I didn't choose. Besides, I like being on my own.”

“Wouldn’t that be lonely?”

“What did Mattsun and Makki call it? Forever alone? More like forever available.” He grins and pinches her cheeks. “I’ll decide who I want to be with, thank you very much.”

“You’re interesting, Oikawa-san. You’re always so certain and confident about everything.” She rubs her cheeks, brown eyes twinkling with laughter.

They lie there like that talking about nothing in particular. He tries his best to make her do that laugh again. A nice sound like wind chimes tinkling softly on a balmy summer night.

She falls asleep blissful and happy. Oikawa places a light kiss on her temple and falls asleep himself.

By morning he wakes up to an empty bed. Exactly how he likes it.

He can make anyone forget about fate, soulmates and true love.

Even if it’s only for a night.

+

Suga grasps his shoulder and runs his thumb over the soulmark hidden beneath his silver grey suit for the hundredth time that morning. Closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath. It’s a bright spring morning and the air has lost the last of its winter chill. Instead it’s softened with the gentle perfume of the first flowers. He can feel the warm touch of the sun on his skin as he stood at the altar waiting.

He knows that his friends and family are watching, but in this moment his mind is somewhere else making a very important confirmation. Which is why he has done it a hundred times that morning. He imagines a strong, warm hand beneath his, gripping just where his soulmark is. He imagines that it’s confident and reassuring. He imagines the person that embodies the comfort he feels from having a mark.

Before, the soulmark gave him comfort in the knowledge that if he ever felt alone at least one person in the world was sure to love and accept him. If only he could meet them that is.

Now he needs to know: Can he let go of this person he’s never met and fully commit to the person before him? He knows the chances are slim, but today once he says “I do” he can’t ever turn back to find that person.

He pictures that person with all his might. Imagining their touch on his shoulder. Does he want to turn around and discover who they are?

Finally he exhales a breath he didn’t realise he was holding and opens his eyes. The brightness stings. He blinks away the glowing haze as his eyes focus. No, that’s all the confirmation he needs. He won’t sacrifice what he has now with Kiyoko for something wonderful but almost impossible to find. He’s certain.

Just when his eyes clear he sees her at the end of the aisle. For a moment he forgets to breathe.

Every head turns towards her quickly followed by gasps of wonder as she walks towards him. Kiyoko looks like a creature from another world.

He sees it all in slow motion. Time doesn’t exist anymore and the music fades away like it's deep under water. With every step Kiyoko’s veil, so fine it’s almost transparent, flutters about her slender frame. Silver leaves wreath through her midnight hair. The dress itself is made from a gorgeous silk with a subtle sheen, shaped and manipulated to look like a pure white rose. She’s beautiful. A goddess made of starlight with midnight hair.

On one hand he wants to go to her, pick her up in a princess carry and take her to the altar so they can get married faster. On the other he remains rooted to the spot, transfixed by his bride, willing to wait forever.

When she finally steps beside him she's smiling beneath her veil. Their hands intertwine as words are said by the marriage officiant. Suga barely registers it all in his mind.

“Do you, Sugawara Koushi take Shimizu Kiyoko as your lawfully wedded wife?”

“I do,” Suga replies with conviction. He’ll stay by her side for as long as he lives.

“And do you, Shimizu Kiyoko take Sugawara Koushi as your lawfully wedded husband?”

A long pause follows.

Suga hears her suck in a shuddering breath like she can’t breathe. Turning to her in alarm he lifts her veil to make sure she’s okay, “Kiyoko?”

Their friends and family look on in confusion, whispering behind their hands, “What's going on?”

Her smile cracks and falters. “Koushi.” Tears falling from her eyelashes she shakes her head. Words and tears constrict her throat like some invisible snake. In the end she manages to gasp out two words: “I’m sorry.”

Gathering her long dress into her arms she flees the wedding in tears, her veil floating after her like a lonely spirit.

He begins to chase after her, his hand outstretched. “Kiyoko!” He’s taken barely more than a few steps before his heart caves in with reality. She’s leaving him. She’s leaving and there’s no way he can get her back.

Stunned friends and family hardly have time to react before all hell breaks loose. Chairs clatter to the ground as people shoot up to see where she ran off to. Others are already taking out car keys to find her and friends come up to ask Suga if he needs anything. If there’s anything they can do for him. Both sets of parents come rushing up to Suga demanding to know what happened.

Amidst all the noises clamouring around him he tells them plainly: She doesn’t want him.  They’re not getting married.

+

Suga had no reason to believe that Kiyoko would choose anyone but him. Never in his dreams did he imagine he would lose to her soulmate. Who by chance was the little blond assistant at the boutique where they had the wedding dress made.

He was confident that their ten years together would be reason enough to stay together. They had their fights like any other couple and they worked out their problems with calm discussion. There was passion and gentleness, easy understanding and comfortable silences. Overall, a solid relationship that could have lasted a lifetime. Then she turned up at their apartment after disappearing for a week with the ring. “I was born with that name on my skin. It’s what fate wants. I’m sorry, Koushi.”

With those words their promises to each other from so many years ago disintegrated to nothing. He watched her go with the velvet ring box in his fist and hot tears on his face. He wished he could shout at her. _How could you abandon me? How could you break every promise we ever made? Do I mean so little to you?_ But he couldn’t. It was her choice and the only promise left intact from their shattered relationship. Why did he promise her so confidently that if her soulmate appears he'd accept whatever choice she makes? He wished he could selfishly take her back, make her stay. Still, even in pain and anger he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

He looks around the apartment now devoid of Kiyoko’s things. The only trace of her is her lingering scent on the furniture, in the carpet, his clothes, their bed. Now it's just his bed. Too big and too cold for one person.

It hurts so much. The dull ache in his chest echoes inside him and he tears himself apart all over again. Grief and anger at being betrayed pulling him taut in every direction. Out of habit, he grabs his shoulder, digging his thumb into his own soulmark. He takes a deep breath and lets warm reassurance sweep over him. He can still feel the pain hidden just beneath his skin, but at least its edge has dulled just a little. _This will pass._ He knows he can survive without her. He just needs a bit of time. That's all. Maybe he should go out and distract himself. He rests his head on the cool tabletop for a few minutes more before sighing and languidly reaching over for the phone.

It’s almost an automatic action when he dials in Daichi’s number. Daichi picks up after the first ring and Suga immediately feels guilty. He never picks up so soon unless he's worried. Maybe he shouldn’t have broken down in front of his friends after everyone left the wedding reception. He doesn't want to worry his friends with his own problems. He can get through this. He’ll be fine.

“Daichi, do the guys have anything planned tonight? Let's go out and do something. Anywhere is fine.”

“Sure thing, Suga. We've got you covered. Tanaka and Noya are on their way to get you.”

Suga can almost hear Daichi’s nod of reassurance and his folded arms over the phone. He likes to call it the captain pose. Suga sighs. He’ll live. There’s no need for his friends to worry too much. He can’t help the small smile tugging at his lips though. He may not be married to most wonderful person he’s ever met but at least he has the kindest friends anyone can hope for.

Within seconds Noya bulldozes through the door with Tanaka in tow. They probably used the spare key.

“Suga-san!”

Suga raises an eyebrow in question as they drag him out of his chair and push him towards the door. “How did you guys get here so fast?” He hastily grabs a jacket on the way out. It still smells clean so this will have to do. He steps into his shoes. “I hope you weren't camping outside my house.”

“Well.” Tanaka shrugs. “We wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Suga balks. He was only joking about the camping part.

“Suga-san, on a scale of 0 to 10 how is your pain?” Nishinoya holds up an illustrated scale of suffering ranging from perfectly fine to burning in hell. He slides a finger across the bottom, pointing out each elaborately coloured stick figure illustration.

Suga bursts out laughing.

“Ryuu, this is bad. He’s gone insane!”

“I’m calling Daichi!”

Suga feels all warm and fuzzy. It’s easy to forget how perceptive these two are because they're manchildren. It's precisely because of that fact they see the simple things most people miss. Suga understands beneath that silliness they’re trying very hard to cheer him up.

Suga waves his hands in front of him. “No, no. You’ll give him a heart attack. I’m fine.”

Tanaka and Noya sit in the alcove pulling their shoes on. Tanaka is showing them this “cool new way to tie shoe laces” that spies apparently use as codes.

“So what are our laces saying?” asks Noya curiously.

“I can’t actually remember. It looks cool though.”

Suga leans against the doorframe and looks at them with a soft smile. “Thanks for being here for me.”

They stare up at him in surprise for a moment before returning his smile tenfold.

“Of course we're here for you!” Noya jabs both thumbs towards himself with his signature wild grin and big, bright eyes.

Tanaka slings an arm around Suga's shoulder. “Come on, let’s go have fun!”

And then Suga is swept along by the two human hurricanes. This is one of those rare times he goes along with whatever they have in mind without working out a contingency plan in case everything goes wrong.

+

“Can I go home now?”

“Suga, you’ve only been here for ten minutes,” Complains Daichi, as he cleans a glass.

Suga droops in his bar stool and slumps across the marble countertop. He wishes he did think twice about going along with their plans.

On the way here Noya insisted on covering his eyes, which resulted in him enduring sweaty hands over half his face for about an hour. He didn’t really mind. He was a huge fan of surprises.

He only felt a little apprehensive when a deep, intimidating voice rumbled, “VIPs only.”

“So what? You wanna fight about it?” growled Tanaka.

Suga was immediately worried for Tanaka. Tanaka acts tough but he didn’t actually like getting into fights. Hopefully the other man, who sounded much bigger than his friends, wouldn't take him seriously.

In a quieter voice Tanaka speaks more politely, “Come on, let us in Ushiwaka. We're visiting Daichi.”

Ushijima? No wonder that voice sounded familiar.

“Rules are rules. And please stop calling me that.”

“Come on, Ushiwa--” Nishinoya coughs, embarrassed, “Ushijima, I mean. Live a little. It’ll be more fun with us in there.”

Ushijima commented plainly, “Cleaning up vomit has never been one of Hinata’s favourite jobs.”

“It’s builds character. He'll become a great man!”

“Guys, maybe we should just call Daichi?” Suga pulled Noya’s hands off his face. It was then that Ushijima took notice of his presence.

“Sugawara? You may enter.” Ushijima undid the velvet rope and stepped aside to let him through. He promptly clicked the rope back in place before the other two could follow (“Hey! No fair!”). Just as he passed Ushijima he looked at him with an expression of warm sincerity Suga hardly saw on the bouncer’s face. “I'm sorry to hear your wedding fell through.”

Nishinoya gasped and jabbed an accusing finger at Ushijima. “You insensitive brick!”

“I'm merely expressing my condolences.”

And that was how he got inside this fancy new club sitting across from Daichi while he does tricks mixing up cocktails he's never heard of.

The troublemakers are probably still squawking at Ushijima outside for bringing up his wedding.

It’s loud, it’s stuffy and there are people everywhere. To be fair, he did say “take me anywhere”, so he supposes he can’t complain.

“Fine. I’ll stay for a bit,” he sighs.

“I promise you won't regret it. I'll make you something on the house.”

+

The Planetarium is Oikawa’s favourite club. He’ll say that it's out of this world and mean it literally. Here he is most comfortable where people come to let go of reality, letting their thoughts spiral up and dissipate like smoke between the stars.

The ceiling is an accurate sky map, studded with pin prick lights of different colours and brightnesses. It even rotates as the night passes so the constellations are always seen in real time. Here he can enjoy the cosmic haze of the Milky Way whenever he wanted without having to travel all the way to the countryside. The club is also cloaked with sheer smoke. Combined with black marble flooring it makes him feel like he's walking in the sky.

Like every other Saturday night he strides into the club. He loves how the smoke parts for him and swirls around his tall, lithe body. Perfectly aware of how enticing he looks with one sweep over the scene. Other eyes twinkle back at him like stars in a smoky sky. Whose fantasy will he be tonight? That lovely woman with dark, intelligent eyes? There must be many interesting ideas in her head that Oikawa has never thought of before. Maybe the nervous boy who blushes with his entire body when Oikawa looks at him? The shy ones are always so cute.

Instead, his eye lands on the uptight bartender who is absolutely gorgeous and also the only one not paying any attention to his beautiful self. Bronze skin and cropped dark hair. He reminds Oikawa of Iwaizumi, his first love. Oikawa has been trying to charm the man into going home with him but was met with a solid “no” every time. It was polite refusal at first. Then outright jabs in an attempt to shoo him away like a misbehaving puppy. Oikawa is nothing if not persistent though. He makes a beeline to the bar at the centre of the club.

In contrast to the black marble the bar serves as the sun. It's all sleek white marble and golden metal glittering with a thousand different bottles of alcohol, liqueurs and syrups in golden yellow, dark amber and jewel colours.  

“You again,” Daichi huffs in exasperation and rolls his eyes. “The answer is still no. I don't want to help you explore Uranus. I heard it’s gassy.”

“Hello to you too, Daichi~” Oikawa draws out the last syllable and coats it with just enough honey. Maybe he has a chance tonight. His eyes trail lazily all over the muscular frame he can almost imagine hiding under that crisp uniform.

Daichi is as grouchy as always when Oikawa is around. “You gonna order something or spout out some awful space puns again?” said the man who also made an awful space pun himself.

“I would like to order a smile, please.”

Daichi deadpans and stares him down so coldly Oikawa almost feels obliged to back off a bit. “I'll have a Jupiter with extra sau-”

Oikawa gulps. He's being glared at now. “With extra syrup, please.” _No glaring, please. I'm a good boy who says my “please”s and “thank you”s._

Daichi rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “Just let me finish this and I'll take your order. I'll try very hard not to slip in some cyanide.”

“So far you've managed not to kill me every time. So you don’t hate me that much~”

“Even the best of us make mistakes. Don’t push your luck, Oikawa _-san._ ”

Oikawa laughs and watches Daichi move towards the centre of the bar where all the glass bottles are. Oikawa props his head up on his hands. Daichi is always such a pleasure to watch when he’s mixing up cocktails.

The performance begins and Oikawa leans forward in his seat.

Something minute and almost invisible changes in Daichi’s stance. Something electric and powerful hidden just underneath his skin, coiled between tendons and muscle.

At this point Daichi hasn’t done anything yet, but Oikawa can tell it’s going to be amazing.

In swift fluid movements that ooze unshakable strength and confidence Daichi seemingly grabs a few bottles at random. For this drink he’s chosen quite a few things Oikawa can’t name. Oikawa doesn’t think he’s ever ordered this drink before. It has a palette of black, blue and shades of silver-grey.

Some of the bottles roll along Daichi’s toned arms and in one swift movement his wrist flicks up. The bottles are tossed into the air in criss crossing arcs. Some seem like they might collide, but they never do. Somehow everything lands exactly where they’re supposed to without ever spilling a single drop. Oikawa is convinced Daichi is using black magic. As they fly, streams of colourful liquid whip around Daichi in his wild dance. The streams glimmer crystalline in the light. Every droplet is directed into a waiting glass that Daichi tosses. It spins in the air before being caught. Suddenly a long thin stream of black with a sheen of iridescent blue is being poured cleanly into a glass. Daichi salts the rim. Oikawa doesn’t know how or when, but Daichi swishes his hand over the drink once. Then it’s cloaked in cold, white smoke rising from the dark surface of the drink to spill over the edge and cling to every curve on the glass.

Sorcery! Daichi is a warlock! Oikawa stares awestruck at the cocktail that’s obviously a magic potion. He wonders who ordered it and feels a pang of envy. That drink looks amazing! He’ll order that when Daichi comes over.

Daichi hands the drink to **A FUCKING ANGEL.**

Silver-grey hair and a beauty mark on snowy skin. The angel lifts the glass to his lips eyes closed. Oikawa watches the subtle bob of his adam’s apple as he drinks. The angel makes a small smile. Long lashes flutter open and Oikawa sees the universe.

Oikawa chokes on air and slams his hands on the bench top. He literally screeches, “What is he?!” Thank goodness the music is loud.

Walking back to him, Daichi raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms. “Excuse me?”

Oikawa shakes his head, dipping it down politely and says at a more reasonable volume, “I mean, who is that man?” He has to know, _needs to know_.

Daichi looks smugly down his nose at Oikawa. “Hmmm, interested are you?” Opportunities to look down at Oikawa don’t come often. He won’t let this chance go wasted.

“Yes!” Oikawa knows Daichi is up to something. He doesn’t care if it’s a trap. He needs that angel in his life even if it’s just for a few minutes. Hell, even a few seconds will be nice.

“He’s my,” Daichi pauses to watch Oikawa’s face fall, then grins devilishly, “best friend.”

Oikawa looks visibly relieved and Daichi laughs. He catches on that Daichi probably won’t be giving him a name any time soon. Getting Daichi to introduce him might be a terrible idea. That’s fine. He can handle this on his own.

Oikawa discreetly turns around and checks his reflection with his phone. Perfect as always. He’s ready.

Oikawa slides smoothly into the seat beside light incarnate. He stares at the man, dumbstruck. _Wow_.

The man abruptly stops stirring his cocktail and turns to Oikawa surprised, “What?”

Oikawa slaps a hand over his mouth. Rigidly turning the other way he feels his face burn. _Oh no._ He said it out loud. Keep calm, he can fix this. He’s suave, an expert at subtle flirting, a smooth operator!

Taking a deep breath Oikawa slowly turns back to the man as he brings a smile up to the surface of his still burning skin. “That’s a beautiful drink you have there.” He tries not to stammer and fails brilliantly. Why is it suddenly so hot in here? It’s like someone fired him into the sun.

“Yea, I think Daichi said it’s called Pluto.” Eyes a little downcast, the man stirs the black and blue drink. The drink spirals and shimmers deep blue, swirling in fading tendrils of smoke. It looks like a small galaxy in a cup.

Oikawa nearly sighs. If the drink is a galaxy then it doesn’t compare to the universe in the angel’s melancholic eyes. He props his head on a hand and looks up at the silver-haired man. He wants to put a smile on that sad face.

“But not as beautiful as you.” Oikawa doesn’t purr or coat his words in honey this time. It’s simply the truth.

“Are you trying to pick me up?”

“Is it working?”

“You’re pretty bold. I'll give you that.” The man takes a sip from the cocktail he has been stirring for an eternity and smiles. It’s radiant but soft. More beautiful than any star in the sky.

Oikawa didn’t think he could become any more attractive. Stunned by the smile it's obvious he is wrong. His mouth goes dry. Suddenly talking is a bit difficult. For some reason he actually needs to concentrate to keep breathing.

“Uh.” His mind goes blank for a minute. This is ridiculous. Unable to form proper sentences he points to himself, the man and then the dance floor. “Dance?”

_Very smooth, Tooru._ He wants to slide under the bar stool and disappear into a hole. This isn’t how he usually is, he swears. Where did his suave ways go?

Daichi snorts at him. Oikawa shoots him a glare.

“Maybe. I want to finish this drink first.”

“That’s fine. I can wait.”

“Do you want to try it?”

“Can I?”

The man nods and nudges the drink towards him. “It's very nice.” He laughs lightly, eyes crinkling in the corners. “And I noticed you staring at it the whole time.”

_He noticed me!_ Oikawa blushes. _What’s going on?_ He's not usually so easily flustered. He takes a sip and his eyes grow wide. His mouth hangs agape with the straw resting on his lip.

This drink starts off insanely bitter. Just when he thinks it tastes absolutely disgusting this warm, smoky vanilla flavour begins to emerge before being incinerated by a familiar alcoholic burn. The heat flares for a few seconds before being extinguished only to be replaced by a cold feeling in his mouth. There’s got to be mint somewhere in this drink. To finish off the aftertaste of blueberries linger in the mouth. It’s strange. It’s intense. It’s _absolutely amazing._

Speechless, Oikawa can’t do much but push the glass into the man’s hands and silently insist he drink the rest of it with odd hand gestures coupled with bright eyes.

“You really like this, don't you?” The man grins.

“It's weird. I love it!”

The man laughs, “Ok, I'll finish this and you can have your dance.”

The man finishes his drink. At the last sip the straw rolls away around the glass, leaving behind a stray droplet on the man’s lips. Oikawa stares at the curve of his mouth when a sliver of a pink tongue darts out to lick away the droplet.

Oikawa’s hands tighten into fists.

The man slips out of his chair and leads Oikawa by the elbow. “Come dance with me.”

At first they dance at a respectable distance. But in the pale smoke and shifting light, the bass thrumming beneath their feet they gravitate towards each other. Oikawa doesn’t even realise it as he's caught in the silver-haired man's orbit. He imagines them as binary stars. Then bodies are rolling together like a droplet of mercury. Hands tracing collarbones and running down smooth arms.

“Your place or mine?” the angel breathes in his ear.

Eyes already half closed and molten with want, Oikawa whispers, “Yours.”

Without a hint of hesitation the man pulls him away from the writhing mass of dancing people, away from the Planetarium and out into the cold night air.

A short car ride later Oikawa finds himself following the man with his lips, rather unwilling to break the kiss they are in the middle of. He feels the man smiling, _He knows exactly what he's doing to me._

The man steps back with a playful smile, Oikawa wraps his arms around him. “You're not getting away,” he murmurs between their lips as distance shrinks to nothing. _His lips are so soft_. Oikawa’s eyes drift closed. He can still taste a little bit of blueberry on him.

Then the man escapes from his arms like a silver fish taking with him Oikawa’s shirt, which he had unbuttoned while Oikawa was distracted by a clever tongue. Oikawa’s about to capture the angel again when he himself is the one who's caught. The man drags him into the bedroom by the collar. In a smooth manoeuvre the man turns him around and pushes him onto the bed.

Oikawa is surprised but very willing. He can be into this, he thinks, as the man crawls on top of him to completely devour him in a kiss that tears his soul apart. Oikawa moves his hand to support the man’s waist, giving it a gentle squeeze.  In return fingers are combing through Oikawa’s hair and grazing his cheek with fleeting touches filled with affection.

He pulls the man closer to get at those bothersome buttons on his shirt. Soon they’re undone and so is Oikawa. It feels like nothing Oikawa has ever experienced before. There’s lust, but there’s also passion and warmth mingled with something soft and fuzzy he can’t identify.

The angel straddled on top of him breaks away, breathless from their kiss. Quietly he asks in the dark, “What’s your name?”

There it is again. That spark of pain in the angel’s eyes. In a world without soulmarks it's only a simple question. Unfortunately, they don’t live in such a world. Oikawa understands perfectly what the silver-haired angel is really asking, _Are you my other half?_

Oikawa reaches up a hand and strokes his cheek, brushing away invisible tears. “Whatever you want it to be.”

Oikawa has no idea what happened to this sad man to have pain flickering behind his eyes, but Oikawa wants to make him happy in this moment even if it’s only a transient fantasy come true. “What’s my name tonight?”

“Oikawa Tooru.”

The man shifts slightly and his shirt slips off a shoulder. Sure enough Oikawa’s name is printed in the hollow of the man’s shoulder in his distinct cursive.

Uncontrollable fear courses through Oikawa’s veins. Sitting up, he firmly places his hands on the man’s shoulders and shoves him away. “I gotta go, sorry,” he mumbles, hurriedly gathering discarded clothing.

He doesn’t even wait to put them on before he’s sprinting out of the apartment.

The man, who Oikawa now knows is named Sugawara Koushi calls after him, “Wait! It's you, isn’t it?”

Oikawa runs faster even though his lungs feel like they’re about to burst.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was actually written for [OiSuga Weekend back in April](http://oisuga-week.tumblr.com/post/141118977524/ready-for-oisuga-weekend-the-next-one-will-be). I really really wanted to post this even though I'm a million years too late. So here it is XD Leave a comment to let me know what you think and kudos if you enjoyed it =D
> 
> Also, if anyone knows tumblr user calmkeiji please show her this fic if she's still into OiSuga. She deactivated so I don't know how to reach her ^w^; This fic was fleshed out by talking to her about initial ideas and now it's finally published I want to show her what it's grown into.


	2. Mercury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Much to his dismay space travel still isn't possible. So Oikawa goes for the next best thing: a spontaneous cruise to Antarctica.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just leaving a little note here. I'm planning to improve on this chapter later on today or tomorrow to polish up some of the imagery. I don't think it's as good as the first chapter tbh. But for now, here it is ^w^
> 
>  **EDIT:** Yay V^^V I improved the chapter. It's much better now. Enjoy guys~

“Suga, you’re sighing so much all the leaves outside are going to fall down.”

Just to mess with Daichi, Suga heaves a dramatic sigh and puts on the most forlorn face he can make. “But Daichi, he’s not here.” Sipping on a Pluto he can’t keep up his sad face. A smile breaks out on his lips. This is the same drink he shared with Oikawa.

He still remembers how happy Oikawa looked tasting the drink.

That night the subtle lighting shifting and turning in the smoke lit up Oikawa’s hair with a reddish glow. First, confusion coloured his face. It then melted into surprised delight. Suga found it endearing when Oikawa pushed the drink towards him, silently insisting that he should finish the rest with eyes that sparkled with enthusiasm.

The Planetarium hasn’t changed since he was here last time with Oikawa. The stars still twinkle, meandering across the ceiling as the night wears on. Sheer smoke swirls atop black marble flooring and the bar still glows with white and gold. But it seems less magical to Suga. Something is missing.

“Who?” Asahi asks Suga curiously over his lemonade. He works as a bouncer with Ushijima. He won’t need to go on shift for another twenty minutes.

“Oikawa.” Suga replies, watching the smoke linger on the black and blue surface on his drink. He’s been waiting for him to appear for a few weeks now. Judging by the way Oikawa fled that night he seems intent on avoiding Suga.

“Good riddance,” Daichi laughs. Raising an eyebrow he asks cheekily, “Did you guys have a good time? Is that why you’ve been looking for him?”

“He has my name.”

Daichi nearly drops the glass he’s cleaning. “Are you sure? I know you're good with holding your liquor, but are you absolutely sure he's the man you took home?”

“I'm sure! He was this tall.” Suga motions with his hand above his head and waves his fingers around his hair. “Had twirly brown hair and pretty brown eyes.”

Asahi points at a knobbly man with ratty hair the colour of mud flailing on the edges of the dance floor like a wet noodle in the wind. “That guy over there looks about the same. You sure that's not him?”

Suga is absolutely offended. “He does _not_ look the same. I can prove it.” He pulls out his phone.

Asahi stops him with a hand on his shoulder. “Suga, don’t do it. Remember what happened last time you flashed your mark on the internet?”

Oh, he remembers that very well. How dread congealed in his stomach when he realised there was an extra person in the room and the deafening sound of a door clicking shut.

He was fifteen at the time and too curious for his own good. All the “what if”s were too tempting. Against better judgement he went on one of those online dating sites. The sort where you uploaded your mark hoping that another user had your name on their skin so you could meet after securing some sort of proof that they were real. Sure enough a slender young boy around the same age as himself replied, claiming to be Oikawa Tooru.

The boy had an understated beauty about him, with timid eyes framed behind glasses and a smile that melted hearts. The boy supplied evidence, but refused to show Suga his mark. He said that it’s in an embarrassing place, all the while shyly avoiding Suga’s eyes on video call. He asked to meet up with Suga. Suga knew how stupid the idea was and it was exactly why he told no one about it.

Later, Suga quickly found out marks could be photoshopped and evidence could be forged. He barely managed to avoid getting kidnapped and trafficked to god knows where.

The memory makes him shudder.

“I’m never doing that again, Asahi, don’t worry. Just a little google search and facebook stalking. No one’s posting pictures of their soulmarks anywhere.” He pats Asahi’s hand to reassure him.

The worry lines between Asahi’s eyebrows smooth out into a determined expression. Asahi crowds in around them like it will protect them from any online predators waiting to crawl out of Suga’s phone.

Daichi subtly leans over the benchtop to have a peek at his phone. He’s too nosy not to. It’s why he became a barman in the first place. Daichi likes listening to people’s stories.

Suga rapidly types in “Oikawa Tooru”, feeling lighter on the inside. Seeing his name somewhere other than his skin makes it feel real. Scrolling past eight “Oikawa Tooru”s he finds the right one. Clicking on Oikawa’s display picture makes something warm bloom inside Suga. He proudly shows Daichi Oikawa's facebook page. Oikawa’s flashing a peace sign and a dazzling smile.

“This is him. I know what I saw Daichi. My name was on his back.”

Even now he could see it clearly. The room was dark with the lights outside filtering through the window. When Oikawa pushed him away he understood. He didn’t really mind, though he was disappointed and maybe a little sad. After Kiyoko’s rejection he felt unwanted.

He loved the way Oikawa smiled with his eyes and the way Oikawa’s lips felt against his own. The feeling of Oikawa's body rolling against his own was nothing short of perfection and Suga wanted to try it again with no clothes between them. Still, it’s Oikawa’s choice who he slept with. If he didn’t want to for any reason Suga would respect that. Then he _saw._ Just as he caught Oikawa slipping his shirt on, that split second before the fabric fluttered over his skin. Time slowed down and Suga saw it so clearly. Nestled to the left of Oikawa’s lower back was his name in his own handwriting. It was unmistakable. By the time he realised and called after Oikawa he was long gone.

“I am so sorry,” Daichi says with genuine remorse, “First Kiyoko and now Oikawa is your soulmate? The universe is cruel.”

“I want to find him.”

Daichi teases him, “You want to put up with that for the rest of your life?”

“I know what I want, Daichi, and neither of you can stop me. So tell me where he is.”

“I don't know where he is,” Daichi says. He places the glass he was cleaning back on the shelf with a soft clunk and braces his hands on the edge of the benchtop with a confident smile. “But I know a guy who can help.”

+

The cruise ship shears through icy waters with a gentle hiss. Gathered on deck with the other tourists Oikawa sees a huge colony of black and white penguins on the ice. They're squeezed into a tight huddle to fend against the Antarctic cold and their squawks fill the air as they chatter to each other.

“These particular penguins mate for life,” the guide explains, gesturing towards the penguins.

While snapping a million photos (with flash off so it won’t bother the animals), Oikawa can’t help but make the most unmanly noise possible. “Awwww!”

“Much like human soulmates.”

“Eurgh!”

The entire group turns to look at him.

“I mean–I mean aww!!” Oikawa stammers and smiles as brightly as he can. “Sorry, there was something at the back of my throat.” He waves a hand to dispense any awkwardness.

The group laughs lightly and the middle-aged man next to him smacks him on the back and hands him some water.

“Thanks.” Oikawa dips his head down politely.

“No problem, young man.” The friendly man grins back.

Gulping down a mouthful of water, Oikawa knows he's being unfair. Somehow it's incredibly cute when it’s animals. It makes him feel all warm and fuzzy. How nice it is that they can be together forever! They’ll never be alone and have someone to share their happiness with. When it's humans it makes him so uncomfortable he doesn’t even know where to begin.

Just thinking about Sugawara stresses him out. He can’t handle it. The brand of his name on that man’s skin makes his chest tight. It says to him, “Tooru, you’re responsible for this stranger’s feelings. You know who he is now, so you have to take care of him.”

Needless to say every bit of grey or silver he sees out the corner of his eyes send him into panic mode. Space travel is unavailable right now so coming here to Antarctica is the next best thing.

The guide reminds them firmly not to feed the penguins and never ever to leave any rubbish behind before they’re allowed out on the ice to take photos and do a little bit of exploring on their own.

He wanders a fair distance away from the group, while keeping the ship in sight. It's bitingly cold, but Oikawa is well prepared with a million scarves draped about his shoulders, a faux fur hat, toasty layers and soft gloves.

Spread out all around him is ice blanketed with a layer of snow. An endless expanse of white that tips into the black ocean holding icebergs in its grasp. The sky is an infinite blue, like an upside down cup enclosing everything. Aside from solid colour the landscape is empty. Simple and clean, it calms Oikawa. His mind is quiet and still. He hasn't felt this way in a long time.

Just as he's about to take a photo a lone penguin waddles out into the snow in front of him. He didn't hear it coming. Oikawa watches it curiously. _What's it doing so far away from the rest of them?_

With a loud squawk similar to a war cry it releases the biggest shit from a bird Oikawa has ever seen. Wafting over to him is a smell that burns off all the hairs in his nostrils and makes his eyes water.

The quiet magic of the Antarctic tundra disappears and Oikawa reaches enlightenment. He sees himself in the black and white penguin.

This penguin is a rebellious soul. It doesn't need silly, arbitrary rules from the rest of penguin society. It's free to chase its dreams, unhindered by responsibility. This penguin is going somewhere amazing.

With closed eyes he clenches his fist and raises it to his chest. _Perfection._ This kind of inspiration is exactly what he needed. He feels untouchable. No one can reach him here. Only ice and penguins.

Here he can pretend he never met Sugawara. He can forget Sugawara's soft hands, the delicate curve of his mouth and erase the cadence of Sugawara's voice lingering in his mind.

“Oikawa.”

That doesn't sound like it's in his head.

“Oikawa!”

Sugawara's beautiful–no. Sugawara's very average and not at all comforting voice sounds closer, softly reaching across the ice towards him. For a moment he lets his guard down, letting the voice wrap around him like a warm blanket on a winter night. He shakes his head frantically to clear it. That can't be true. He spent a lot of money on this spontaneous cruise to Antarctica. The whole trip was very last minute so there's no way Sugawara can possibly be here without pulling a few strings.

There's only one other possibility: he must be hallucinating. The shock of meeting his dreaded soulmate must have really done something to his head.

“I finally found you.”

Oh wow, these hallucinations are getting pretty realistic. Maybe he needs to see a therapist.

A warm hand rests on his shoulder with a friendly squeeze.

_Shit._

Very, very slowly Oikawa turns his head.

Dressed all in black, crowned with a halo of silver-grey hair and a light blue scarf tied around his neck is Sugawara. He’s smiling radiantly with a softness in his eyes that does strange things to Oikawa’s heart.

Oikawa's entire body seizes up.

No, Sugawara doesn't look attractive at all. No, Oikawa definitely doesn't want to wrap some of his own scarves around Sugawara because that light blue scarf isn't enough in this cold. _No, no, no,_ he repeats firmly in his mind.

His body kicks into action, whooshing across the ice as he escapes. He's been practicing ever since that night in case they ran into each other again. All those exhausting runs at five in the morning are finally going to pay off.

He’s never tried running on ice though. Predictably, he slips, bits of snow spraying into the air as he falls flat on his butt. Sprawled in the snow in an ungraceful tangle of legs, he sees Sugawara gaining on him. With a grunt of frustration he scrambles back to his feet before making a mad dash towards the ship.

Neither of them are used to this. Sugawara repeatedly slips and falls after him. Oikawa hates the way his heart clenches every time Sugawara falls. Half of him wants to make sure Sugawara didn’t hurt himself. The other half is screaming all the way across the ice to get the hell out of there.

Chests heaving with condensation puffing out of their mouths, their legs stutter and slow from exertion. Oikawa is bent over, panting heavily. He raises a hand to say between large gulps of air, “Let's...let's stop for now.”

Sugawara nods, unable to get a word out either, his breath fogging up in front of his face.

With nodding and vague hand gestures they agree on a truce of sorts.

Sugawara's doubled over trying to catch his breath.

 _Why's he trying so hard to catch me? What did I ever do to deserve this?_ Oikawa asks the universe.

Scrutinising every one of Sugawara’s movements, Oikawa is poised, ready to escape at the slightest sign. Sugawara must be a really determined person to come all this way. _He’s not even saving up his energy_ , observes Oikawa as Sugawara continues panting heavily. Intuition tells him Sugawara isn’t likely to rest for long if Sugawara’s this committed to tracking him down.

Luckily, Oikawa has a plan.

He points behind Sugawara with an expression of absolute horror. “Oh my god! What is that?” As soon as Sugawara turns his head Oikawa is sprinting to safety. He'll stay in his cabin for the rest of the cruise if that's what it takes to avoid Sugawara.

Another set of hurried footsteps crunching in the snow joins Oikawa's frantic ones. Sugawara calls after him, “We don’t have to get together! Don’t run!”

Oikawa shouts over his shoulder, “Of course we don’t! I don’t want to!”

“How about being friends?”

Oikawa's feet slow to a stop. He turns to Sugawara with confusion written all over his face. “Friends?”

“Yes.”

“Friends,” Oikawa rolls the word around his mouth and looks down his nose at Sugawara. He's not sure if he can do friendship.

Sugawara opens his hands in a placating manner. “We don't have to if you don't want to.”

Oikawa doesn't know what to say. So he walks off without saying a thing. Why is it that this guy makes him lose his words one way or another?

When Oikawa gets to the warmth of his cabin he strips off all his layers, making a messy trail to the bathroom. He draws himself a bath that's just a hair too hot, steam rising off the water to twirl up into the ceiling. Exactly how he likes it. Heat prickles on his skin, gently burning him up from his toes all the way up to the top of his head as he sinks beneath the surface.

Underwater he can't hear anything and there aren’t any smells to notice. All he can see is water and light wrapped around him, the distorted warm glow of the bathroom lights undulating on the watery surface making soft shadows dance before his eyes.

_“How about being friends?”_

Oikawa thinks about the question. Can soulmates really just be friends? The way everyone talks about soulmates it's like they have no choice but to be together forever. He doesn't want anything like that. He wants to be able to choose. To love someone because they're perfect the way they are. Because they're _them._ Not because some mysterious force randomly decided that's who he should end up with and wrote his name on their skin.

He keeps turning Sugawara’s question over in his head, looking at every facet to see if he might learn something new that will show him what he should do.

What does he know about Sugawara Koushi? From what he’s seen so far Sugawara is a very determined person. He’s still as beautiful as the first time they met, though Oikawa sees that sadness doesn’t sit in his amber eyes anymore. That’s all he knows about Sugawara. For all intents and purposes, this man is still a stranger whether he has Oikawa’s name on his skin or not.

Oikawa blows a stream of bubbles and watches it break the surface of the water. He comes up for air and sighs.

That night is still fully engraved in his mind. How he was looking forward to spending a passionate night with Sugawara until his name on Sugawara's skin put an end to that. He imagined what would happen if he ended up sleeping with Sugawara despite the soulmark. It meant in the morning his bed would have an extra person where empty space should be. It meant he had no choice but to have this stranger’s heart shoved into his hands and he mustn’t mess up even though he never asked for it.

Pressing his palm to his chest he feels his heart beating against it, a warm, steady thump. He drags in the heated air around him in a slow breath. Can he? Should he? Can they really be plain and simple friends?

The water has gone lukewarm and his fingers are all wrinkly. He still doesn’t have an answer, but the hot bath makes him feel better. Maybe he doesn’t need an answer right now. He’ll just go with the flow for now and see what happens.

By the time he’s dressed dinner is ready in the dining hall. The dining hall was simply furnished, lined with wooden flooring and historical pictures of Scott’s Base hanging on the walls. Along the sides there were cosy booths with soft cushions to rest on. It has a rustic quality about it that Oikawa likes. The air in the dining hall is touched with a warm, buttery smell with a soft sweetness that stands out from the sharp fragrance of spices and different meats drifting about the ship. He can hear a fryer sizzling with oil. Probably for fish and chips.

Oikawa grabs a plate and moves along the buffet table. He piles on a bit of everything. Rice seasoned with basil, cumin and a pinch of salt and pepper, orzo salad with raisins and slivers of fresh carrot dressed with balsamic vinegar, potatoes roasted until golden, steamed vegetables, chicken with thinly sliced mushrooms and onions in a creamy white sauce, slow-cooked pork belly with crackling shiny from being basted with honey–there is so much food and the smell makes his mouth water. His stomach rumbles in approval.

At the end of the table there are mountains of salmon cut into small cubes. He's going to walk right past when one of the cooks hurriedly stops him. “No, sir! You must try some of these! It's a real treat. Authentic New Zealand salmon smoked to perfection. You'll love it, I'm sure!”

The cook seems really into this salmon so Oikawa heaps quite a few cubes on his plate. “What's for dessert?” He puts the tongs back on the side of the salmon dish.

“Tonight we have chocolate cake, ice cream, a selection of fresh and dried fruits with cream. We have bread and butter pudding as well. That one's my favourite.”

“I'll have to try it then.”

His eyes sweep across the dining hall for a spot. He really shouldn’t have taken so long in the bath. It seems every seat is taken. Groups of people chatter to people over dinner, learning about where they all come from. The Americans are particularly boisterous, cheerfully telling their new friends about their adventures and eager to learn about their companions. Talking to them is always fun, but it doesn’t look like there’s a free space nearby.

He’s just about to give up when he spots an empty space. Brightening up he moves towards it. As he gets closer his heart sinks into an uncomfortable place. Silver-grey hair. _Calm down, Tooru. It might be that nice old lady from Australia._ When he’s close enough it’s definitely not the kind grandma. A beauty mark under an eye, flawless skin, the longest eyelashes– _Stop that. It’s just Sugawara,_ Oikawa scolded himself.

As silently as possible he sits down. If he doesn’t say anything maybe Sugawara won’t notice he’s here. Who is he kidding? Just now he saw the corner of Sugawara’s mouth quirk up into a smile. He’s taking care not to bother Oikawa. Urgh, it makes his heart twinge and his face heat up. Oh no, his palms are starting to get sweaty.

With all his willpower Oikawa trains his eyes on his food. _Think about how good it’s going to taste. Just think about the food and nothing will happen. I’m gonna be ok._

He pops a cube of salmon in his mouth and stops mid-chew. The salmon isn’t a greasy mess like he expected. Its salty flavour is soft and mild like an ocean breeze. Underneath that flavour it’s warm and smoky as the tender salmon melts on his tongue. It’s really beautiful.

Gradually, there’s a tingling on his cheek that he can’t explain, like an itch that isn’t quite there. He ignores it for a while until the feeling becomes more intense. The feeling is familiar. Where has he felt it before? Casting back his memory, he thinks it’s like someone is watching him. He looks up from his food for just a moment and nearly dies.

Of course it’s Sugawara. He has his head propped up on a hand, looking at Oikawa like he’s the only one in all of space and time.

That look from Sugawara is too much. Completely flustered Oikawa looks away, casting his eyes back down at the food.

Without his permission his treacherous eyes trail over to Sugawara’s plate. Sugawara got a bit of everything too. Except his plate has absolutely no salmon on it.

“You don't like salmon?” Oikawa says with a hint of resignation. The universe is out to get him so it’s not like anything he does will have an effect.

“Not unless it's sashimi. It's too oily.”

“Same here.”

Sugawara blatantly eyes the salmon piled up on his plate. “Are you sure?”

“This smoked salmon is an exception. The chef says it's New Zealand salmon. I’m guessing it’s less oily than the kind we get in Japan.”

“You have to eat a lot then. It's expensive.”

Oikawa hums in agreement.

Before he can process what he's doing he's already holding up his fork with a piece of salmon on it for Sugawara to try.

Sugawara is just as surprised as he is. Slowly, he leans forward and Oikawa watches slightly chapped, pink lips open and fold over the salmon. Oikawa feels Sugawara's butterfly weight slide off the fork, leaving it clean.

Sugawara chews for a moment and presses a knuckle to his lips. A light dusting of pink colours his cheeks. “It really does taste good.”

Oikawa's still staring at his fork, then at Sugawara's mouth and back at the glinting fork in his hand. He wants to do that again. But without a fork. Maybe with things that aren't food.

“Yea, uh.” _Fuckfuckfuck._ “Have more.” _I'm losing my mind. This can't be happening._

To distract himself he shovels half his salmon on Sugawara's plate.

For the rest of the meal Oikawa doesn't say a word and eats his food so quickly he doesn't really taste it. He needs to get out of here fast. As soon as he's finished he's speed walking to his cabin.

Hiding under his sheets to try and get some sleep his eyes snap open. He never got to try that bread and butter pudding.

+

In the dark something nudges against the back of Suga’s mind. There are sounds, muffled in the fog of sleep, a subdued echo sitting on the edge of his mind. Slowly, the sounds become sharper around the edges. Bit by bit, Suga wakes up so the sound of footsteps clattering up and down the ship. Quick, urgent whispers slice up the air as he hears people rushing about, “Quickly! Quickly!”

Suga’s first thought is the ship struck an iceberg and now they’re all going down like the Titanic.

Sleepily rubbing his eyes he opens the door to see what all this commotion is about. In his head he quickly remembers where the lifejackets and lifeboats are. There’s a lady rushing by and he taps her on the shoulder before she can dash off. “Excuse me, Miss, what’s going on?”

“There’s an aurora right now.” She points towards the open sky beyond the railing before his cabin, which Suga now sees is cloaked by translucent sheets of coloured light. “So we’re waking everyone so they don’t miss it. Make sure to grab your camera!”

An aurora! He’s never seen one before.

Getting dressed quickly he rummages around in his backpack for his camera. He’s always wanted to see one but never really pursued it seriously. A part of him thinks he gave up on seeing one before even trying. He can’t help but think how lucky he is considering he never planned to have this trip. Meeting Oikawa isn’t something he ever anticipated either, especially not after his failed wedding.

He hurries up on deck where the view is the best. There’s already a small crowd gathered, taking pictures of nature’s lightshow.

In the crowd Suga spots a distinct glow of reddish-brown hair peeking out underneath a huge fur hat. Sugawara laughs into his gloved hands. The fur hat and the number of scarves Oikawa is wearing is ridiculous. Somehow, he makes it look adorable.

Weaving through a small throng of people, Suga slips into the space next to Oikawa.

The sky is the darkest Suga has ever seen. Antarctica is a very isolated place after all, with just a handful of bases. Perfect for revealing the stars splashed across the sky. Washed over these stars like watercolours are veils of blue, green and pink light dancing in the sky.

“It’s beautiful,” breathes Oikawa, utterly entranced.

Oikawa’s face is so open and clear, drinking in the sky. He looks innocent with glossy, wide eyes reflecting the dancing colours in a rich pool of chocolate brown. “Yea, it's beautiful,” Suga agrees, watching Oikawa. _This is what he looks like when he’s not running away._ He pays no attention to the aurora after that. If he wants to see one again he can travel. Oikawa is different. He doesn’t know where Oikawa will run off to next or if he’ll be lucky enough to find him again. He wonders if Oikawa will ever stop running.

So he keeps watching Oikawa and Oikawa keeps watching the sky.

As the night grows colder people dwindle and go back to their cabins until they’re the only ones left on deck. Oikawa seems intent on staying here until the aurora fades.

The blue, green and pink veils of the aurora eventually melts away into the dark leaving behind clean starlight. Oikawa seems to come back to earth and his face is guarded again when he looks at Suga.

It’s almost unbelievable how quickly Oikawa throws up a wall between them. In a moment of panic he thinks Oikawa is about to tell him to leave. He has no idea what he’s doing, but he puffs out misted breath between him and Oikawa. “Look! I’m a dragon!” He feels stupid and childish. Hopefully it’ll do something to stop Oikawa from running away.

Oikawa turns away from him with a huff, making his own tiny cloud. “Pfft.”

Suga grins. Finally, a hint of a smile. He’s not sure why Oikawa is so stubborn about hiding it. Oikawa had a lovely smile from when he was being charming back at the Planetarium. He wants to see it again. “You can laugh in front of me, Oikawa. I meant it when I said we can just be friends.”

He won't complain either if Oikawa changes his mind. A part of him is curious about why Oikawa is so against being soulmates. Once again, if Oikawa doesn’t want that he’ll accept it. If he can share even just a little bit of his time with Oikawa he’ll be happy with the memories.

In an effort to get Oikawa to smile for him some more Suga keeps making little clouds.

Oikawa’s eyes widen in surprise. His face relaxes into a smile before he’s laughing quietly in his scarves. It sounds restrained, but Suga counts it as a small victory.

Encouraged, Suga puffs a little more, twisting his mouth into strange shapes.

“What are you doing? Your face looks really funny,” Oikawa laughs openly this time.

“I’m trying to make smoke rings.”

“You probably can’t do that just with your breath.”

“You’re probably right, but I want to make you laugh.”

“That’s…that’s really,” Oikawa trails off, unsure how to respond to that. “Um.” Then he’s hiding his face in his numerous scarves, angled away from Suga. His fingers are clenched into a tight fist on his lap, betraying his anxiety.

“I mean as a friend,” Suga quickly adds. _Please, don’t run._

“We should get some sleep,” Oikawa mumbles as he stands to leave.

“I’ll walk you back.”

Oikawa doesn’t object. He turns his head a little, peeking out over the top of his scarves. As soon as their eyes meet Oikawa whips his head away to face forward. He still seems very skittish but Suga takes it as a good sign. At least he’s not sprinting anywhere.

Their walk to Oikawa’s cabin is completely silent with only a soft breeze whispering around them. Suga doesn’t mind the quiet. Instead, he watches Oikawa’s hair ruffling in the breeze, how the yellow lights outside each cabin weaves through it. He can’t help but think it’s like a tiny aurora of gold, red and brown. He’s content just watching and being by Oikawa’s side. Sometimes he thinks about what will happen if Oikawa doesn’t want to be friends. When he plays it out in his mind there’s sadness, but it’s a sweet sort of sadness that makes him feel something he can’t quite describe. There’s none of the intense pain and anger he felt when Kiyoko left him. He’s well aware Oikawa isn’t obligated to be with him just because they’re soulmates. They’re not tied together by time, experience and devotion. _Then, what exactly does it mean to have a soulmate?_ Suga wonders. What do his own feelings mean? This is another reason why he wants to spend more time with Oikawa. He wants to learn.

But he still stands by his word. If Oikawa doesn’t want him, he’ll respect that.

Oikawa stops and fishes out his keys, the door unclicks. After stepping through he promptly shuts the door in Suga’s face.

Suga blinks in surprise at the sudden, rude reaction. He wonders what Oikawa is thinking on the other side of the door.

After a few moments the door creaks open just a bit. Oikawa’s brown eye is peering through it curiously at him. “You’re still here,” Oikawa says quietly.

“Yep.” Suga rocks back on his heels, wrists crossed behind his back.

Saying that the silence is awkward is an understatement. Staring at each other, this time it’s a little different to when they were running on the ice. The tension between the pursued and the pursuer isn’t there. There’s no stiffness in what little Suga can see of Oikawa through the crack in the door. He doesn’t see Oikawa’s nose scrunch in concentration, waiting for him to make his next move. They’re caught in an endless loop, mirror images of each other, both waiting for something to happen.

Suga thrusts his hand out.

Oikawa tilts his head and blinks in question.

“A goodnight handshake,” Suga explains with as much confidence as he can muster, scratching absentmindedly at his cheek. If he acts like this is a completely normal thing to do then it won’t be awkward.

Despite the cold Suga is beginning to sweat a little. It’s still awkward.

Oikawa stares at his outstretched hand for a moment. He opens the door just wide enough to slip his hand through and takes Suga’s hand. “Goodnight.”

Even though their hands are separated by gloves he can feel Oikawa’s warmth spreading through his hand. It’s as warm as Suga has imagined it to be for years.

“Goodnight, Oikawa.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think Oikawa will probably enjoy bread and butter pudding. Too bad he didn't get any XD
> 
> Next chapter will be the last chapter, ohohohoho~ There's also a high chance of the rating changing because LOL I can't hold back the smut >.> Would anyone be opposed to that? Let me know in the comments OAO
> 
> Also, thanks so much for all the kudos and comments so far V^^V I didn't expect to get such a great response!


	3. Venus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two handsome guys alone in the middle of nowhere to do a bit of stargazing. Oikawa can see exactly where this is going and he is having absolutely none of it. He won’t let the universe win this time!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHH!!!! It's finally here! This is probably the longest chapter I've ever written. There's more than one smut scene in here, but it's not explicit enough to change the current rating. If anyone would like to skip these scenes use ctrl+F or command+F and type in "~" without quotations.

A comfortable silence falls as the dusty blue gradient of the sky darkens. The last traces of the sun slips just below the horizon, leaving behind a hazy, rose-gold glow. All the soft colours blending into one another makes Oikawa sigh in appreciation. It's in quiet moments like these on a long car ride out in the countryside that he can relax completely and just feel the world around him. He can imagine how lovely it’ll smell outside once he steps out. The air will be fresh with the scent of a thousand grasses he doesn’t know the names of and fragrant little flowers that blossom in the night to entertain fluttering moths. He can hear the night coming alive just barely audible over the rumble of the car. Birdsong is replaced by the trill of crickets as comforting darkness wraps around him and the stars start coming out to bedazzle the world. Out here it’s a little bubble in space away from the hustle and bustle of the city where time doesn’t exist and nothing matters. It’s a sanctuary of peace and quiet where he’s no more and no less than a speck of stardust. All of this he can enjoy free of charge. 

While he loves the beauty and peace nature offers he doesn’t care for any of its inconveniences. For example, lack of funding from the few people that live out here in the middle of nowhere to take care of their roads.

Trundling along a pockmarked road in the middle of the countryside Oikawa curses under his breath at every pothole illuminated in front of him. Cracks criss-cross all over the place with irregular holes and jagged edges spread over it like some horrible skin condition. In some places the road suddenly turns into a random section of gravel. It’s amazing how wrecked this road is. He won’t be surprised if that’s part of the road that’s been crushed into gravel over years of abuse. Eyes narrowed in concentration he avoids every pothole and carefully drives along gravel, sneaking a peek at Sugawara every once in awhile. 

Despite the bumpy road and the constant swerving Oikawa has to do Sugawara still sleeps. His head rolls this way and that way with every turn, bobbing up and down sharply at times. Oikawa’s amazed he hasn’t woken up yet. There's a slight smile curling up on his lips and Oikawa watches the steady rise and fall of the sleeping man’s chest. He drums his fingers absentmindedly on the steering wheel. He won’t exactly be opposed to donating enough money to fill in those potholes to make the road nice and smooth for sleeping passengers. Only because the road leads to a good spot for stargazing and everyone should be able to get there as comfortably as possible. Nothing to do with Sugawara. 

After their trip to Antarctica they somehow kept in touch. He had no clue how Sugawara got his number. Oikawa was determined not to speak to him at all but ended up pestering Sugawara every day. His train of thought was surely if he showed his most annoying side, maybe even his ugliest side, Sugawara would leave him alone. To his horror Sugawara only laughed and joked with him. What disturbed him even more was the fact he enjoyed it and he grew comfortable with Sugawara's acceptance. All the while he screamed in his head,  _ What's wrong with you? I'm literal garbage! _ Dazed by his own bewilderment Oikawa ended up falling into a natural rhythm of casually hanging out with Sugawara every weekend. Every time he told himself it was the last time he’ll meet up with Sugawara. He would always fail, calling Sugawara the next day to plan their next weekend. Oikawa blamed his self-control, but the real fault rested on Sugawara. The man was dangerously addictive, he'd admit that much. 

Constant failure aside, Oikawa is adamant this weekend really will be the last one. This time he'll get it right. The timing matches up with a meteor shower he wants to watch every year. For some reason or another he misses the opportunity year after year, so he figured why not? He can use this chance to make a whole load of wishes on falling stars, wish that this whole soulmate thing is a load of crap. He doesn't truly believe in wishing on stars, but there’s no harm in giving it a try either. 

However, as the car moves along and as Sugawara sleeps beside him, Oikawa becomes more and more uncertain. The atmosphere is weird even though he’s the only person awake, so there’s nobody to make it weird except for himself. At the back of his mind instinct keeps telling him it’s the soulmark written on his lower back. He gingerly takes that voice between his fingers and puts it in a trash can, then lights it on fire and runs away to a safer part of his mind to find another explanation for the growing stress he feels gnawing at his nerves.

Eyes meandering over to Sugawara again Oikawa is distracted by silver hair glimmering softly. It's a whisper in the dark turned into starlight. Oikawa snaps his eyes back on the road. The leather on the steering squeaking when he clenches his fingers around it.  _ Fuck me, why did I have to choose meteor shower?  _

_ Calm down, Tooru,  _ he tells himself,  _ take deep breaths. _ All they'll be doing out here is watching some beautiful stars rain down from the sky.  _ As friends _ , he emphasises.  _ This is the last time, after all _ . He'll put a stop to those casual touches and silent moments spent staring into each other’s eyes for too long. No more listening to hints of a smile in Sugawara’s voice and no more deep discussions lasting till three in the morning... _ Holy fuck, where did I go wrong? How did I end up like this? _ Hunching over the wheel Oikawa begins regretting every decision he has ever made in life to get to this point. 

Wallowing in self-pity he almost drives right past the sprawling silhouette of the tree he's looking for. Upon recognising the familiar tree, as lonesome as it was last time he was here, Oikawa straightens up with a smile playing on his lips and excitement dancing in his eyes. Pulling off the road he parks the car next to it. Well, as close as he can get to the tree. It dominates the ground around it with thick, gnarly roots spilling out from a monstrously thick trunk. They make excellent hiding places with nooks and crannies to wriggle into, though he’ll probably get stuck in the holes since he’s not a kid anymore.

The car’s low rumble falls silent as the headlights flicker off. After all those bumps in the road Sugawara is still fast asleep. He hasn’t budged at all. Oikawa reaches over, brushing hair out of Sugawara’s face and tucking the soft strands behind his ear. “We’re here.” The backs of his fingers graze over Sugawara’s cheek. Even in the dark he can see that Sugawara is beautiful.

Sugawara nuzzles his hand, seeking out more of that comforting warmth and releases a content sigh that tickles Oikawa’s wrist. Sugawara's skin is soft beneath his fingers as he absentmindedly strokes his cheek. In the dark a warm and tender feeling blossoms in his chest. It's similar to something he's felt before. Something like the affection he felt for Iwaizumi, but without the all-consuming destructive passion that burned everything in its path. This feeling he can't describe as anything but different. When he wracks his brains for something he can compare it to he sees his parents. The love in his father's eyes and the trust conveyed in his mother's touch whenever they kissed. He sees with perfect clarity the glint of their wedding rings and remembers their matching soulmarks. 

Oikawa recoils like he’s been burned, heartbeat hammering in his ears. A small frown curls on Sugawara’s lips at the loss of touch. Wide-eyed and terrified Oikawa clutches his tingling hand and springs away from Sugawara. Waking him up–no, touching Sugawara is a mistake, like a poison that's seeped into his skin without him realising. 

In a panic Oikawa shoves at Sugawara’s shoulder and hollers, “We're here!”

Sugawara jumps out of his seat and flails about, whacking the rear-view mirror with his arm. “Huh? What?”

Oikawa coughs, “We’re at the place.” He sheepily avoids Sugawara’s eyes. 

“Good grief, Oikawa, you nearly gave me heart attack!”

“You're too young for that,” teases Oikawa, surprised that his sing-song voice kept even. He's so relieved he might cry. 

After fishing out a flashlight Oikawa hops out of the car and flicks it on. As expected, the path in front of him is bathed in a soft, red glow. Sugawara moves sluggishly, probably still dazed from sleeping. Oikawa goes around to his side and opens the car door for him. They still have a little bit of walking to do and he doesn’t want to be late for the meteor shower.

Sugawara yawns and stretches his arms towards the sky. It’s then that he looks up at the tree. Dark branches obscure the sky and leaves whisper with every breeze. “Wow,” he breathes, “it's so big it makes the car look like a toy.” He lays a hand on one of its roots, marveling at the sheer size of it. Taken with curiosity he begins walking next to the root, which grows thicker and tangles up in odd twisted shapes as he gets nearer to the trunk. All the while his hand runs along bark wrinkled with time.

Oikawa soon joins him, climbing on top of the root and walking along it with arms outstretched to balance himself. He can’t fit in the nooks and crannies anymore, but he can still climb. “When I was little I was the only kid who could get to the very top. I declared this tree my castle.” He puffs his chest out proudly. “It still is, mind you.”

“Should I kiss your knuckles, my lord, and pledge my life to you then?” Sugawara offers him his hand.

“I'm a king actually, but yes, you should.” Playing along, Oikawa imperiously rests his hand in Sugawara’s palm and looks down his nose at him with his best villainous smirk. 

Laughing, Sugawara presses his lips to his knuckles. “I'm yours.” Oikawa could have sworn he felt Sugawara smile against his skin. 

Snatching his hand back he shoves it in his pocket, suddenly concentrating very hard on his footing instead of the way his skin tingles and how his face is several degrees warmer than the rest of him. Honestly he didn't expect Sugawara to go through with it. Turning his head away from Sugawara his face twists into a worried frown as every lingering touch they’ve had flashes before his eyes.  _ Why does it happen every time? _

Sugawara interrupts his moment of quiet, “So what’s with the red light?” He nods his head towards the red light swimming across the roots in front of them.

“Red light preserves night vision so you can see stars better. So don’t use your phone until we at least get back to the car.”

Before long they pass the trunk, clamber over more roots and make it to the other side of the tree where there’s tall grass, bramble thickets here and there and a sapling somewhere right at the border of the tree. Oikawa can’t see all this in the dim light of course, but he knows this place like the back of his hand. Passing his flashlight back and forth he finally spots the sapling. When he had planted it back then it was just a twig. Now it’s grown into a small bush that reaches his elbows. He fondly rubs one of its leaves between his fingers. All those memories come pouring into his heart, so different to what he's experiencing now. They're about golden drops of sunlight bathing him in warmth, cicadas and wheat waving in the summer breeze. They're about messy hair, scraped knees and nails caked with mud. With a fond smile he lets the leaf of his cute plant child spring out of his grip. He wonders how tall it can grow. 

Turning to Sugawara, who has been waiting patiently for him, he begins to feel a little lost. Tripping over his words he can't find a better way to say it. “We have to hold hands.” He scratches at a spot on his cheek, looking everywhere else except for Sugawara. “It's easy to get lost here, so hold on to me, okay?”  _ This is the worst idea in the world. Maybe I should have picked a movie instead.  _

“Okay.” 

God damn it all. He can practically hear Sugawara smile. Worse, Sugawara’s hand fits perfectly in his, like slotting puzzle pieces together as their fingers twine together. Do they really have to twine their fingers together? Oikawa finds he doesn’t actually mind despite the protests in his head.

Shoving that thought at the back of his cluttered mind he pulls Sugawara along behind him, entering a natural maze. Tall grasses shoot up either side of them like a wall, hiding hidden paths, nooks and crannies here and there that small animals burrow into. They pass a few familiar blackberry bushes. Oikawa carefully pulls aside its thorny vines to make sure they don’t scratch Sugawara. For a moment Oikawa thinks about coming back in the summer to pick blackberries with him. The bushes are probably old enough by now to produce berries sweet enough to smooth out its sharp tangy flavour. Then he remembers this is the last weekend they’ll be spending together. He clenches his fist.  _ It has to be the last one _ , he promises himself.

Sugawara hisses painfully, “Oikawa, you’re crushing my hand.” 

“Sorry!” Oikawa immediately lets go out of embarrassment.

“Nothing’s broken, don’t worry.” Sugawara waves away his apologies. Oikawa has been very jumpy lately. Sugawara frowns and concern colours his voice. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yea.”

“Do you still want to hold hands?”

Oikawa blurts out, “We have to, you’ll get lost!” He thrusts his hand in Sugawara’s direction. 

Sugawara takes his hand again and before long they break through the wall of tall grass into an open meadow. All around them is open air filled with the scent of tiny white flowers that carpet the ground and the chirps and clicks of small insects. At the centre of the meadow lies a fallen tree with thick, gnarly branches that seem to cradle large slabs of rock strewn around it. 

Oikawa glances down at the glowing dials on his watch. “Ahh! We’re early! It looks like we’ll be able to see this meteor shower after all.” Pulling Sugawara along he dashes excitedly towards the rocks. Circling around them a few times he finally decides on the perfect rock: the one right at the edge. It’s the flattest and big enough for the both of them.

When they finally rest on the rock after what felt like the most stressful walk of Oikawa’s life he turns off his flashlight and throws his head back to take in the night sky. The first thing he notices is how wide and how far away the sky is. If the height of the sky can be measured then it must be some ridiculous number he’ll never be able to comprehend. Maybe infinity. Strung up there are the stars embedded in their own place in the universe. Most of them far larger than Earth’s sun. The thought makes him feel tiny and insignificant. 

And because he’s insignificant it feels like his problems don’t matter at all. After all, why should a speck like him worry about anything? All the anxiety threaded in his nerves untangle and smooth out to escape with every exhale. Even though his soulmate is right beside him he doesn’t feel the pressure that animates his worst nightmares.

Braver now, cloaked in reassuring darkness Oikawa hazards a glance at Sugawara beside him. He’s watching the sky too.  _ I wonder what he thinks about when he looks at the stars? _ Half of Oikawa wants to ask him, always curious about what’s going on in that silver head of his. The other half of Oikawa is afraid he’ll give him another strangely beautiful, poetic answer that turns into another conversation that lasts until the early hours of the morning.

Instead, Oikawa finds security in silence and darkness, feeling cold stone beneath gradually warm up as he drinks in the silvery haze of stars splashed across the sky. Anticipation hums in his veins as seconds drip away closer to when stars will rain down across the sky. Warmth tingles in his fingertips as Sugawara squeezes his hand. 

Abruptly seizing up into a catatonic state, unintelligible screaming erupts in his mind.  **_We’re still holding hands! WHY!_ **

He doesn't understand why it's happening, but images flash before his eyes. He imagines how lovely the meteor shower will look reflected in the bright pools of Sugawara's cognac eyes.  _ It's such an intoxicating shade _ , he thinks in a daze. Sugawara is intoxicating and Oikawa is an alcoholic who just can’t quit.

He pries his trembling fingers off Sugawara's hand and shoves them in his pocket. This has to stop. He can't keep thinking like that or he'll be chained down forever by a stupid name on his body. It's just a birthmark. He won't let it run his life. Oikawa clenches his eyes shut. He won't, he won't, he won't… 

“Oikawa,” Sugawara murmurs in the silence stretched thin between them. He scoots a little closer, nudging at Oikawa's arm. “You're acting kind of strange. Not just tonight, but recently.”

Oikawa holds his breath. This is it. This is what he's been waiting for. He's so glad it's Sugawara who is going to ask that they never meet again. He couldn't bring himself to say the words on all those previous weekends. Sugawara is making it easier for him, but he still feels like a train about to crash and explode into a million pieces of shrapnel on impact. 

Sugawara leans in close to him and he subconsciously eases into Sugawara’s warmth like butter melting on toast. It’s comforting, like going back to his childhood home. Nothing like a train smashing into his face at 320 kilometers per hour. He sighs and opens eyes he didn’t realise had been closed. He can feel more than see Sugawara. A fuzzy silhouette in the dark with warm, sweet breath making small puffs of mist in the air. Oikawa can’t help but lean in as well. A confusing mixture of excitement and anticipation swirls inside him. It’s that feeling, except it’s stronger than ever before. That feeling where they’re so close to tipping over the edge of something good. His lips part as Sugawara’s warm, soft breath fans over them. Sugawara hesitates for a moment, but Oikawa follows him.  _ Maybe in another culture somewhere it’s normal for friends to kiss. _

Oh, but friends don't kiss like this. Friends don't pull you closer, fitting their bodies perfectly to yours. Friends don't lace their fingers in your hair. Friends don't moan in your mouth or let you in to taste them. 

Yet here he is with Sugawara. Their breaths seep out between their mouths, mingling together in a single plume of sheer white mist spiraling up into the sky. 

“What are you doing to me?” Oikawa murmurs against Sugawara’s lips. His hand is cupping Sugawara’s face like he’s made of glass, tilting it at the perfect angle and their lips meet again. Sugawara’s lips are soft, so soft that they’re heartbreaking. Oikawa falls apart with a heavy, shuddering exhale and the warm slide of Sugawara’s tongue slips inside his mouth. A strangled, quiet moan bubbles up from the back of his throat. His eyes flick back into his skull. Sugawara’s hand runs up his chest to stroke the backs of his fingers against his cheek and Oikawa holds his hand there. Sugawara’s hand is cold, but Oikawa is burning like a furnace. Without Sugawara’s cold he swears he’ll evaporate. All the same, his feverish thoughts come spilling out of his mouth and escaping through the small spaces between them to merge with the air around them. He feels like he’s dying. They part with a soft, wet sound. “What are you doing to me?” Oikawa gasps. He rests his forehead on Sugawara’s, utterly breathless. His hand drifts down to Sugawara’s shoulder, vaguely aware that beneath these clothes his writing is marked in Sugawara’s skin. He pulls Sugawara closer, burying his face in his neck. Sugawara smells like gingerbread.

“I don’t know,” Sugawara repeats it like a prayer, whispering it against the elegant arc of Oikawa's collarbone, “I don’t know.” Oikawa’s earlier question echoes right back at him, “What are you doing to  _ me _ ?” Sugawara presses Oikawa's hand to his chest. Sugawara's heart is a thunderstorm captured in his ribcage. Oikawa finds the pulse beneath his palm absolutely enthralling. 

Oikawa is so intoxicated from Sugawara everything seems surreal. Every touch gilds his thoughts in gold, lighting up parts of Sugawara he shouldn't be able to see in the dark. His thoughts are shapeless and indistinct, but he feels with clarity. He can feel buttons slipping out of holes and hear the soft hiss of a zipper coming undone. He can feel fabric creasing in his hands as Sugawara lets him gently peel his shirt away from his shoulders. 

Sugawara unfolds like a flower. Oikawa traces the soulmark in the hollow of Sugawara's neck with his lips. Sugawara's cheek lights up with warmth and he sighs in Oikawa's hair. 

Sugawara's careful hands smooth over his shoulder blades and slowly glide down in one smooth stroke to press against his lower back, fingers lingering over Oikawa's soulmark. 

Oikawa shivers, but not because of the cold.

 

~

 

He grabs Sugawara’s hips pulls Sugawara on top of him so that Sugawara is straddling his hardness. Their fingers intertwine and lock together tightly. They cry out shapeless sounds as Sugawara eases Oikawa inside him. Every movement is punctuated by a gasp, a moan, a soft sound as their lips meet and part. Soft skin scrapes and arches against rough stone with every thrust. 

Sweat rolls off Oikawa's skin as Sugawara pulls him apart atom by atom. He can just make out Sugawara's silhouette rising and falling above him against the backdrop of stars.  _ Sugawara makes the world feel so small.  _ Under Sugawara’s touch he’s viscous, liquefied,  _ melting _ . He’s melting like lava, slowly dripping off the earth and burning it to cinders only to fall into a shimmering void of stars.

It's getting hard to breathe and his breath is scorching his throat. Sugawara's thighs squeeze tightly around his own. Sugawara trembles like he's about to shatter. Their bodies tangle up so tightly around each other Oikawa can’t differentiate between the two anymore. Their thrusts grow sloppy and hurried. It even gets a little desperate as they breathe hard and heavy against each other's skin. 

Then something breaks, opening up like a fissure in an eggshell.

Oikawa gives a shuddering gasp as he pours inside Sugawara. Sugawara clenches around him and Oikawa feels something hot and wet spill onto his skin.

 

~

 

They hold each other close trying to breathe. 

Oikawa finally looks at the sky. Out of his periphery he catches slashes of light lasting no more than a fraction of a second streak across the sky.  _ Ah, I've missed the meteor shower again.  _

As sudden as the appearance of meteor showers, clarity cuts through his mental fog. He looks down at Sugawara, still resting in his arms, skin still pressed against him,  _ still joined together _ . Regret crushes his lungs, stops his heart, and seizes up every muscle.  _ What have I done?  _ Sugawara's come is already cooling on their skin and he hasn't even pulled out yet. He's hyperaware of his cock, slick with come and still wrapped inside the heat of Sugawara's flesh.  _ How could I let this happen?  _

“Sugawara, friends don’t do this.” Oikawa shakily gestures down at where they're still connected together, horrified at what they’ve just done. “Be honest. What are we to you? What is  _ this _ ?”

“Whatever you want us to be.” 

“What do you want from me?” Oikawa asks shrilly. His voice shakes with emotion as it claws its way out of his throat. He wants to throw up. 

Without even looking at him, without even changing from his usual self Sugawara says to him simply in that soothing voice of his, “Call me Suga.”

+

Days passed by like nothing distressing had ever happened. This only served to irritate Oikawa even more. After that night they never said a word to each other. Every day Oikawa compulsively checked his phone every so often only to slap himself hard in the face.  _ I’m only doing this out of habit. I need to stop this bad habit. _ Nonetheless, when Sugawara asked him if he’d like to see a movie for the next weekend he jumped at the chance without a second thought. He wasn't even sure why he said yes. Wasn't distance what he wanted? He must be some kind of masochist.

Now, Oikawa finds himself in the dark watching Sugawara’s silhouette light up around the edges from the low-light of the movie screen. The similarity is unnerving. He’d rather not think about  _ that night _ right now. Focusing on the present moment he points out every difference there is here compared to that night. For a start, the temperature in the movie theater is perfectly controlled. Not too hot and not too cold. Nothing like the crisp, night air that nipped at his skin, spreading goosebumps all the way down to his toes. The air smells lightly of popcorn, a sweetness that tingles the nose on a backdrop of warm butter. The seats are far more comfortable than the rocks back in the meadow. He breathes a sigh of relief as his heartbeat settles down in his chest. He can survive through this movie.

Speaking of which, he doesn’t know what movie they’re watching. He didn’t catch the name when they bought tickets. The previews have ended and the movie begins. 

The screen is dim. Panes of light glide across the interior of someone’s bedroom as a car passes by. There’s no soundtrack and it seems pretty calm with the camera panning to a sleeping figure curled up in some blankets. That must be the protagonist. Gradually, there’s a weird sound coming from somewhere.  _ Tic tic tic tic _ . It’s a strange scuttling sound that makes Oikawa think of that one YouTube video he found of someone poking a nest of daddy long legs. 

In the video there were so many spiders they looked like a huge furball. Then the cameraman just  _ had _ to poke it and they all came falling down with tiny clacking noises as their exoskeletons bumped against each other on the way down.

_ Just thinking about that video makes me itchy everywhere _ , Oikawa muses. He props his head on his hand and continues watching the movie. The scene is dragging on and Oikawa begins to shift uncomfortably in his seat. 

The ominous clacking sound crescendos. Somehow it still sounds soft at the same time, like something huge with a million needle-thin legs. The house creaks like an old man’s joints and there’s a low rumble as a shadows twists around the room. Something huge in that house is writhing about, creeping towards the sleeping protagonist.

_ Oh. Ok. This...is a horror movie. Makes sense. _

Oikawa’s out. He’s  _ gone _ . He’s not dealing with this. He’s never been that fantastic with horror. He closes his eyes and has an out of body experience. Oikawa Tooru is not on Earth right now. 

With some kind of strange, morbid curiosity he opens his eyes just a crack. His mouth unhinges into a blood curdling scream. “GAHHH!!”  _ Holy fuck, what is that!  _

The thing–oh god–the thing is crawling all over the walls, bloating up the house with its mass of infernal coils. It threatens to burst the windows. All the while it inches towards their sleeping protagonist, long thin legs seeking out human flesh in the dark. One leg after another pricks bare skin. 

He doesn't like where this movie is going at all. 

Next to him Sugawara is laughing and munching away on snacks. Oikawa's eyes nearly pop out of their sockets. He's not charmed by Sugawara's twinkling smile or starlit teeth; he's concerned.

_ Now is probably a good time to leave _ . He grips the arm rest, about to stand up except his arm rest yelps. Eyes as wide as saucers he stares down at his arm rest.  _ Arm rests shouldn’t scream _ . 

“Are you alright? We can leave early if you want.” Sugawara’s voice is coloured with concern and he’s trying to smother a painful wince blooming on his face. Oikawa’s fingers are latched so tightly around his wrist Oikawa’s knuckles have gone white.

“I’m fine!” Oikawa says shrilly. He lets go of Sugawara like he’s been burned. Thankfully other moviegoers are too focused to shush him.

Oikawa shrinks in his chair. That touch, that sensation is more terrifying than anything he can see on screen. Worse, now that Sugawara has suggested they leave early he doesn’t really want to anymore. Curse that useless pride of his.

_ I can do this. I can sit through this movie. I can take–I’M SCREAMING FOR MY LIFE! WHAT THE HECK? THAT’S SO GROSS! _

Some unknown mass splatters on the screen with a sickening squelch. With no other option he latches on to the stranger next to him instead. The stranger screams just as loudly as he does, flinging popcorn everywhere. A fair bit of it ends up in Oikawa’s hair, but honestly, he’s too terrified to care. 

The stranger whimpers and holds onto him tightly. He can feel the stranger trembling. Several times throughout the movie Oikawa worries that the stranger might wet himself. Looks like they’re both suffering. Oikawa is eternally grateful he’s not the only one here who doesn’t do well with horror.

He doesn’t remember much of the movie. It all quickly beceomes suppressed memories shoved into the back of Oikawa’s head, never to see the light of day.

The lights fade on with a comforting glow, banishing shadows to pull them out of that nightmare on the screen. 

Standing up to leave he turns to thank the stranger for being scream buddies but his voice gets stuck in his throat.

Beneath all this wild hair that spikes up and falls over half of a fine face soft, golden light pools in the man’s narrow, feline eyes. He slouches in his chair with a sort of casual grace Oikawa can’t help but admire. 

_ This guy,  _ Oikawa licks his lips,  _ this guy can fix everything. He can fix me _ . Plucking a stray piece of popcorn out of the man’s hair and popping it into his mouth Oikawa asks with his best smile, “What’s your name?”

Those golden eyes trail after Oikawa’s tongue before Oikawa feels them trace over his cheek, peering past eyelashes. “Kuroo.” His mouth slants up into a smirk. “Kuroo Tetsurou.” 

_ That name really suits him!   _

Slipping his hands in his jacket Kuroo leans forward a little and peers up at Oikawa innocently behind dark hair. His tone on the other hand is anything but. “And what’s your name, beautiful stranger?”

“Come with me and I’ll tell you.” Oikawa holds out his hand palm up.

Kuroo takes it. His hands are so warm. Almost feverish.

Oikawa doesn’t spare Sugawara a second glance as he leaves with Kuroo in tow.

+

Oikawa claws at the front of Kuroo’s shirt.  _ Kuroo’s clothes won’t come off fast enough! _

Apparently the man agrees with him, body heat leaving Oikawa for just a moment to toss his shirt aside before crashing their lips back together in a clumsy kiss. Oikawa fits his palm behind Kuroo’s neck, bringing him closer to better fit their mouths together. And when they fit together they snap like puzzle pieces. Oikawa’s yelp turns into moan. Kuroo isn’t a sensual nibbler at all. Kuroo bites on Oikawa’s lip hard enough to draw blood, a sharp, metallic sting cloaked in just enough pleasure that makes Oikawa want him to do it again. Kuroo swipes his tongue over Oikawa’s bleeding lip, lapping at the few drops gathered there and sealing the wound with a soft kiss. He tenderly presses his forehead against Oikawa’s while the rest of him crushes Oikawa up against the door, begging for friction. Desperation lit up in his golden eyes he looks surprisingly vulnerable. Oikawa’s breath hitches in surprise when Kuroo holds him close and whispers in his ear, “Save me, won’t you?” 

He doesn’t understand the strange wording or why Kuroo looks like he’s about to cry when he faces him again with those narrow, gold eyes, but he shoves it all away. Less thinking, more lovemaking. He’s more than happy to oblige to Kuroo’s request. After all, isn’t Oikawa the same? Isn’t he just a mess that needs saving as well? 

“Save me,” Kuroo says again. He’s holding Oikawa’s face so tenderly with such a warm expression it stuns Oikawa for a moment.

 

~

 

Oikawa pushes himself away from the door and pulls off Kuroo’s belt as easily as pulling out a loose thread. They don’t make it too far away from the door before their legs get tangled up, sending them both plummeting to the ground. The shoe rack topples over with a crash that Oikawa barely registers. All he can hear is that little breath, that gasp as he tugs Kuroo’s hair sharply. Kuroo’s head tilts up and his eyes fly wide open. Kuroo’s neck is completely exposed, adam’s apple bobbing as he gulps. Oikawa traces a strip of beautiful skin ready to be marked with his finger. He bites down hard, earning a loud cry from Kuroo.

Kuroo reaches behind him and tugs at his pants, thumbs diving beneath the elastic of his briefs. Oikawa pulls them off and kicks them off his ankle. While he’s at it he gets rid of Kuroo’s annoying underwear. It’s been in the way for far too long. That moment of distraction gives Kuroo his chance. In one swift movement Oikawa finds himself beneath Kuroo, captured in another kiss that burns him raw from the inside. There’s no biting this time, in fact, it’s almost gentle. However, a nameless, raw emotion is still there, buried under fevered desperation that Oikawa can almost taste over the salt of skin and blood.

Oikawa has had all kinds of sex, including rough sex that left him feeling it in his muscles for days and tasted various flavours of kinks. However, being with Kuroo is something entirely different. It’s one experience he can truly call painful and violent, like drowning in vodka and lighting himself up on the inside with a match. It’s a scream rippling between all the narrow spaces between their bodies as they move against each other. Raw, electric intensity–and neither of them are even inside each other. He has to have Kuroo. He wants more.

All he can think is more,  _ more,  _ **_more_ ** **.** He’s too focused on the glide of skin and muscle, and the way Kuroo’s hips roll powerfully against his own. He can’t do anything aside from trying to press closer against Kuroo. He smooths his hands down Kuroo’s back, marveling at the feeling of lean muscle moving beneath his palm. Grabbing at the curve of Kuroo’s ass Oikawa forces more friction on their slippery cocks and their balls are pressed flush together. 

Kuroo moans in Oikawa’s mouth. He gives up on supporting his weight on his arms altogether. Instead his arms capture Oikawa in an embrace that forces oxygen from his lungs with every thrust.

Gasping and delirious from the heat, friction and lack of air Oikawa writhes beneath Kuroo. His mouth lolls open, a thin trail of saliva trickling out of the corner of his mouth. His nails struggle to find purchase on anything, slipping off the floorboards. When he can’t find anything his nails rake into Kuroo’s shoulders instead, leaving angry red lines there while he hangs on for dear life.

 

~

 

Their hips roll in tandem, becoming more frantic by the second. Their heartbeats thunder beneath their skin, lighting up with every breath. Kuroo presses his forehead against Oikawa’s, eyes closed tightly and grunting with effort. Kuroo’s ragged breathing fans across Oikawa’s face. When he opens those golden eyes Oikawa sees years of affection pooled in them, like Kuroo has loved Oikawa since forever.

Oikawa drowns in the affection. He embraces it, feels it washing over him like a summer wave. He holds Kuroo’s face, brushing fingers over high cheekbones. He kisses Kuroo the way he’s always wanted to kiss him. 

“Suga,” Oikawa sighs.

At the same moment Kuroo breathes a single syllable that's definitely not Oikawa’s name.

They smile into their kiss. They keep going, pressing desperate bodies together, kissing between whispered names of people who aren't in this room. They come with someone else's name on their lips in a single breath.

Kuroo eases off him and rolls over to lay on the ground next to him. The air smells like sex and it fills up with the sound of their heavy breathing trying to replace the oxygen they stole from each other. They lie there for a while, staring up at the ceiling as the floorboards leech excess heat from their skin.

Kuroo’s the first to get up. Strands of inky hair are stuck to his forehead, bitemarks light up red and purple on his neck, and a smidgen of blood is smeared on his lips. He winces a little as he rolls his shoulders, the marks Oikawa put there coming to life. “You alright?” 

“I’m fine,” Oikawa replies, though he has no doubt he looks as much of a mess as Kuroo does. “And you?” Sitting up now, his hand hovers tentatively over Kuroo’s shoulder, ghosting over red lines. “I should really cut my nails. Sorry about that.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Kuroo grins. He grabs them some damp towels to clean up. He hands one to Oikawa along with some of Oikawa’s clothes he picked up on the way back.

Oikawa gratefully accepts them, but curiosity bubbles beneath his skin. Before he can stop himself he asks, “So who's–”

“Wanna binge watch k-pop videos?” Kuroo cuts him off with such a bright grin it’s blinding.

Maybe it’s best to put his curiosity away for now. It seems Kuroo is nursing a fresh wound. “I love k-pop!”

Kuroo is visibly relieved. Kuroo promises him the first video they’re watching will be the best three minutes and eighteen seconds of his life as he climbs into his underwear and disappears to fetch his laptop.

“Are you ready?”

Kuroo’s eagerly watching out for his reaction like an excited puppy. He’s sparkling with an expression that keeps asking, “What do you think? Do you like it?” 

Oikawa can’t disappoint such a cute face. He starts his commentary on what he guesses is [Kuroo’s favourite video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sa7QfiKGvfk). 

“It looks like they’re dancing on a spaceship. Awesome!” The dancers are performing on a futuristic set that’s very minimalist. The music begins with this heavy breathing that’s all too familiar. “That sinful breathing. It sounds like you, Kuro-chan,” Oikawa giggles.

Kuroo’s eyes crinkle at the corners and his canines glint playfully at him. “It gets better. Just wait and see.”

Oikawa is staring wide-eyed at the screen. “Whoa…”  _ Kuroo wasn’t lying. _ The dancers lifted up their shirts to show abs sculpted by the gods. “Are they real? Wow. Let’s see that again.” Oikawa loops that particular section more than a few times while Kuroo crows with laughter and slings an arm around him.

Oikawa comments on the choreography, “I bet we can dance this. It doesn't look that difficult and we already have abs.” Then the dancers start jumping and twisting around in mid-air to land on their hands in a complicated dance move. “Never mind.”

They watch more dance videos until they get bored. They try to copy some of the dance moves, but stop as soon as they start since they keep banging into furniture and accidentally whacking each other in the face. Hours later they end up sprawled across the couch still in their underwear. Kuroo’s clutching his head in his hands. He got brain freeze from eating ice cream too fast. Oikawa is nursing a tummy ache from irresponsible cake-eating. 

Kuroo smooshes Oikawa’s face with his foot. “You're in love with that silver dude, aren't you? The one you left behind at the movies.”

_ Seems like I’m not the only one who’s nosy.  _ Oikawa waves his hand at Kuroo, batting halfheartedly at his willowy legs. “Whoa there, love is a strong word.”

Kuroo says nothing, only grinning with a smug expression on his face. “Seems like you have pretty strong feelings for him, judging by the way you were moaning his name.” 

Oikawa curls up, hugging one of Kuroo’s massive cushions. He turns away from Kuroo with a petulant pout. He can’t argue with Kuroo there. He’s not wrong about it and Oikawa can’t deny his feelings anymore. Kuroo doesn’t even know him and even he can tell. Maybe, just maybe Kuroo the Stranger might be able to look at his situation fresh eyes and have something interesting to say. Steeling himself, Oikawa turns around, clutching the cushion tightly. “Alright, I’ve only known you for about five hours, but I think you might be able to help me out.” 

“I’m listening.” Kuroo nods, then groans in pain as his brain freeze rattles his skull.

“He's my soulmate.”

“Holy shit, that’s amazing! Congratulations! What's the problem though?”

“I don't like it. This whole soulmates thing. I didn't choose him. You know what I'm saying? Isn't it crazy to think that you'd love someone because of a random mark on your skin?”

Kuroo looks at him like he’s crazy. His face says, “How can you not want your soulmate?” Already feeling defeated he’s not sure if Kuroo will understand what he says next. It all comes out in a tumble of words, bulldozing over the beginning of Kuroo’s sentence.

“It's hard not to like him and I hate it. I can't tell whether I actually like him or if it's because of the mark. I don't understand it. It's stressful and scary. I want to stop but I can't.”

For a long time Kuroo is silent. Oikawa clenches his fist in frustration. 

He’s talked about it with Matsukawa and Hanamaki before, but neither of them understood why he’s so against the concept of soulmates. The thought that a soulmate was unwanted was unfathomable to them. To most people a soulmate was like the Holy Grail. Something that everyone seems to want, but never quite fortunate enough to find. Around the world an estimated three percent of people find their soulmates.

“I’m going to admit I’m not the best person to ask about soulmates and this probably isn’t very helpful,” Kuroo begins slowly, gauging Oikawa’s reaction, “but I think you should go with your instincts. Moreover, you can’t fight fate. If it’s going to happen, it’ll happen.”

Honestly, Oikawa still doesn’t understand the whole concept of fate. Is a mark on someone’s skin all fate really is? “What about the people who love someone who isn’t their soulmate? Is that fate too?” 

Kuroo blinks owlishly at Oikawa, lips parted and face slack with surprise. “I suppose it is.” He brings his hand to his chin, muttering, “I’ve never thought about it that way before.”

“I've spilled the beans.” Oikawa points at Kuroo with a grin, “What's your story?”

Kuroo's eyes soften and there's a hint of sadness there. 

_ Oh no, maybe I shouldn’t have said anything after all _ , thinks Oikawa. 

“Ever been in love with your best friend?”

In Oikawa’s fond memories he sees spiky hair, green eyes and bronze skin in the summer sun. He remembers the sound of cicadas thick in the air and grass swaying in a balmy breeze. “Yea.”

“Yea,” Kuroo repeats, hair falling over his face. “I don't want to lose him, but there’s no other way.”

“I’m not exactly sure what you mean by that, but how do you know you won’t succeed if you haven’t tried? I think you should tell your friend how you feel. You might regret not doing anything about it. Have faith in the strength of your friendship.”

Kuroo says it more to himself than Oikawa, “You can't fight fate.” He drags a hand over his face, barely concealing an expression twisted with pain. Whether it’s from brain freeze or not is debatable. His confident swagger is gone, replaced by a vulnerable slump in his shoulders. “Do you really think I'll be ok?”

Oikawa pats his knee. “I believe in you, Kuro-chan.”

“Thanks. It means a lot. I wish I could give better advice for you though.”

“It’s fine. Just being able to talk about it helped a lot.”

+

He has no right to be upset, Suga knows this. 

_ And yet… _

He can’t even finish the thought when he sees Oikawa’s back in his mind’s eye slipping away from him again and again with that black-haired man following him close behind. He remembers the hunger in that man’s eyes and eagerness painted all over Oikawa’s mouth. It doesn’t take an idiot to guess where Oikawa took the man. As helpful as ever his mind takes what little he has and makes a scene. He can hear the bed creaking, see Oikawa’s fingers tangled up in dark hair, feel their sounds of pleasure– 

Suga washes it all down with mint and blueberries burning down his throat. He slams his glass down on the bar. 

Daichi jumps. A few customers waiting for their cocktails stare at Suga. “Here you are, ladies. One Neptune and two Jupiters.” A glowing, blue drink shimmering with silver flakes and two cups filled with something that smells like the promise of hot cocoa on a winter night shoot past Suga.

Suga stares blankly at the bottom of his empty glass. What is he thinking? They were never a couple in the first place. Sure, they had sex, but what of it? They were never a couple. Who Oikawa sleeps with is none of his business.

Daichi’s familiar hand silently whisks away the glass and Suga is confronted with his own reflection in the white marble. He can hear it without Oikawa saying it. “ _ You’re not the one for me. _ ” He remembers Kiyoko’s last words, “ _ I’m sorry, Koushi. _ ” He’s never enough. He’s never the right one.

“Suga?” Daichi cautiously checks him over. He isn’t worried about the fractured glass he retrieved from Suga. He’s more worried about the pain his friend is in.

“Give me another Pluto.” Not once does Suga stop staring at himself in the marble, wondering what’s so repulsive about him that he’s been so harshly rejected by the people he loves. He hardly notices Daichi quietly slipping away.

He hears ice tumbling and clanging inside the mixer and the soft hiss of something being sprayed. Glasses clink together, the sound lost to the music if he doesn’t pay attention. Then there’s a collective gasp.

A martini glass of fire slides into his vision across the marble. Blue flames lick across the clear, but dark, amber-red concoction. At the bottom Suga can just make out crushed cherries and rose petals dancing in its depths. Daichi snaps his fingers and spices spark in the flames in a flash of gold. It smells like cinnamon with spicy undertones of black pepper.

Daichi gestures towards his new creation with a soft smile. “Her name’s Venus.” 

Suga marvels at the flames for a moment longer. Everything Daichi makes is proof that magic exists. He blows out the flames and raises the glass to his lips. It’s sour, it’s bitter and the pepper makes him cry. The glass is still hot, almost burning his lips. It physically hurts to drink it. He doesn’t think he can keep it down. Just as he’s about to gag the searing flavours slip past the lump in his throat as smooth as silk. What remains is a warm smoky flavour with comforting cinnamon and a light caramel sweetness.

“These things are never easy. In time, this too will pass. One day you’ll be able to look back and it won’t hurt so much anymore.” 

“I know, it’s just,” Suga pauses, dropping his gaze, “it’s just hard.”

“We’re all here for you whenever you need us. See? Asahi’s watching out for you even though he should be kicking out this underage teen.” Daichi pointedly glares at the young guy behind him. “Go home, young man!”

The boy goes pale, but not as pale as Asahi as he escorts the boy outside. 

“Don’t tell anyone, Daichi,” Asahi begs with pleading eyes.

“Do your job and I won’t.”

Suga smiles then, the first one in a long time. It’s a sad smile, but it’s a start.  _ With friends like these I’m gonna be okay _ , he promises himself.

+

Tucked away behind the Planetarium is its personal garbage dump, as putrid as the drinks are magical. It’s smeared with grime and its patrons are rats, cockroaches, flies and other pests feasting on decomposing filth. That’s where Oikawa really belongs and he knows it.

He doesn’t deserve to be here bathed in music beneath the glitter of artificial stars breathing the same air as Suga. Suga is perched atop a barstool as morose as the first time Oikawa met him, if not more. Except this time Oikawa knows exactly why he’s so forlorn. There Suga is, glowing and beautiful with a drink in his hand, framed by white marble, gold and a backdrop of a thousand jewel-toned liqueurs. And here is Oikawa, so undeserving, shamelessly sitting right next to him.

Tonight he doesn’t order a drink. He’s sure Daichi, who is viciously shaking up a cocktail while glaring at him, will slip him some cyanide. Even the Planetarium’s famous bouncer, Ushijima, is silently judging him from across the bar as he drinks his milk. Oikawa admits he deserves to be punched, but now is not the time. They can do that later. He’s preoccupied with something far more important to even sass Daichi.

Suga meets his eyes just once and Oikawa finds pain there.  _ I did this _ . Every word he rehearsed crumbles to dust. He knows what he wants to say, but he doesn’t know how to say it. Not anymore. He settles for simply watching Sugawara as he finishes his drink, hoping he’ll find his courage again.

He doesn’t.

He’s being utterly ignored as Suga wanders over to the dance floor. Oikawa follows him despite Daichi’s threatening stares. Being completely ignored is better than Suga pushing him away.

It’s a lonesome dance with a strange grace to it. Oikawa doesn’t try to join him. It’s clear Suga wants to dance alone as he dodges anyone who tries to come near him the same way a flowing stream of water can’t be held onto.

When Suga leaves he follows him out into the cold, night air. When Suga gets into the cab Oikawa still follows. It’s the same cab driver as the first time. That point in time feels like a world away when Suga refuses to look at him. 

Back then they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Seatbelts be damned. When they arrived at Suga’s apartment the cabbie threw them a packet of condoms with a laugh, “Be safe, guys!”

“So,” the cabbie draws out the syllable, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. The cabbie clearly remembers them and Oikawa can’t imagine how awkward it must be for the man. “Did you two have a fight? A lovers’ squabble?”

“I think you’ve mistaken us for someone else,” Suga says evenly, “we’re not a couple.”

The cabbie whistles and jerks his head at Oikawa. “You gotta think fast boy! Or else you’ll–”

Suga clips him off, “I’d hate to file a complaint, sir.”

The cabbie falls silent.

Like a moth drawn to a flame Oikawa wordlessly follows Suga through the door of his apartment. It opens and shuts behind him with a quiet click. The last time he was here only for a short time before he escaped breathless and sprinting half-naked down the street. Yet, the familiarity of the place is as natural as breathing. 

Suga is still completely ignoring him, heading into his bedroom where moonlight filters through the window. With his back facing Oikawa he stands in a shaft of moonlight that sets the edges of his body aglow. His shoulders slant down and his head tilts downward with a tired sigh.

Oikawa remains standing in the half-darkness. The black and blue shadows seem to whisper. They say, “Look at what your selfishness has done. What a coward you are.” He doesn’t pay attention to him. After all, it’s him who gave them the words. He closes his eyes and draws in a slow breath.  _ I know what to say. I can do it. _

However, as he opens his mouth Suga starts talking. His voice is soft, but Oikawa hears it so clearly it’s the only thing in the world that matters.

“I really wanted to send you away, you know. I wanted to push you away and tell you to go home, to say that I never want to see you again. I want to say “Get out of my life!” and be done with it.” Suga’s voice drops to a whisper, “But I can’t. And I hate myself for it.”

“I’ve been cruel and unfair to you.” Oikawa steps towards him, hand outstretched towards Suga’s back.

Suga shakes his head and laughs, moonlight shimmering in silver-grey hair. The laugh is so bitter Oikawa can taste it. 

Oikawa steps closer to Suga with every word in long, even strides. “I’ve been cruel and unfair to you. I’m a horrible person and I can’t ask you to forgive me because I don’t deserve to be forgiven.”

Suga finally whips around to face him. His eyes are shining with unshed tears and his voice cracks like glass, “Then why are you here? What about that man?”

“He's a friend who loves k-pop.”

Suga blinks owlishly at him. “K-pop?”

“That can wait. This is about you.” Oikawa waves the question away with frantic hands before they can get sidetracked again. If he doesn’t say it now he never will. 

His heartstrings are taut in his chest, ready to snap. His nails dig into his palms as his hands tremble. With a harsh gasp he forces air into his lungs. He says it all in one breath, “I was afraid that being with you meant I had no say on the matter. I didn’t want my feelings to be because of that mark. I didn’t want a mere birthmark to be the foundation of my relationships.” With every word he says confidence leaks out of every syllable and Oikawa sinks to his knees. He grasps Suga’s hands and presses his forehead against the back of them. “Please, give me a second chance. I can’t make any promises that we’ll end happily ever after. But I want to try.” Oikawa’s tears drip into the carpet.

“I should say no.” Suga hands slip away. 

Oikawa slowly raises his head only to stare at his own empty hand where Suga once was. Nothing but air shifts across his open palm and it’s cold. 

_ Ah. _

“I shouldn’t accept this,” Suga says, but he sounds so far away.

_ Ah...it hurts. _ Oikawa’s fingers twist into the front of his shirt.  _ It hurts.  _ It’s strange how cold his tears feel when his chest is aflame. He curls in on himself, trying to hold himself together as his heart caves in.  _ It hurts so much. _ His eyes continue to rain, making everything he sees cold and watery. 

All of a sudden Oikawa is enveloped in warmth and arms are wrapped around him. His face is tucked into the crook of Suga’s neck. Suga’s breath curls around the shell of his ear in little puffs. “But, I want to try,” Suga cries, “I want to try with you.”

Oikawa hugs him back tightly. Tears stream down their faces and drip onto their shoulders to form matching tear stains. 

This time, Oikawa swears, he won’t let go and he won’t run away.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I promised smut but I never said it was going to be healthy or happy D: Let me know how I did in the comments! 
> 
> Oikawa and Suga have a lot of work to do together to make their relationship work even if they're soulmates. They'll have to build up trust and learn a lot more about each other. That's why the ending is open and not a definitive "Yes, they're going to be together forever." More issues in their relationship have yet to be resolved in a future fic.
> 
> YES! This is going to become a series. There will be several more fics in this series, though not all of them will focus on OiSuga. The next part in this series is going to be about Kuroo's story OAO So if you want to see more from this AU please subscribe to the series!

**Author's Note:**

>  **EDIT (2017/2/4):** For earlier readers, I added a mini playlist of songs I listened to for inspiration while writing the fic OAO Thanks so much for bearing with my extremely slow updates!


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